


ploratus angelus

by hiraethcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, My First AO3 Post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14395371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethcas/pseuds/hiraethcas
Summary: *gruff announcer voice* IN A WORLD... WHERE ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE... HE MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi sorry i suck at summaries+writing but im only a little baby so shs

Castiel walked alone.

He didn't exactly mind; in fact, sometimes he found it enjoyable with no one to pester him.  
But today it felt a little off. He felt something missing, gnawing away at him until he would tend to the problem. Castiel stopped walking, a small, cold raindrop landing on his cheek. He stood there for a few moments, contemplating. Contemplating whether or not he should abandon his walk for the nagging, perpetual feeling in his gut or simply continue forward.  
He chose to stay.  
He knew it wasn’t the smartest choice, as some of his smaller choices led to bigger consequences in the end, but still walked forward, hands buried in his coat pockets. Castiel paused to look up at the overcast sky, the shades of grey that were smeared against the sky as if it were a canvas and paint, reminding the angel of a home he never had.  
Hiraeth.  
He continued onward with a small sigh, his fists clenching in his pockets as the unremitting sensation spread further throughout him, a sort of alarm that wouldn’t let up until Castiel had finished what it wanted of him. The angel stopped in his tracks, a soft expression displayed on his face.  
“I may as well.” He then took off from his spot, visually disappearing as he flew up to Heaven.  
Castiel stood in one of the white rooms, his back flush to one of the walls as he listened to the prayers of a young man in his early twenties. He was crying out, for something, for anything. He was alone, he was crying, he was perfect for Castiel; the angel of solidarity and tears.  
___________________

When Castiel first showed up on Dean Winchester’s doorstep, it was midnight. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, and although he did not enjoy it, he knew it was something that would help him blend in easier on Earth. The angel held a flyer in his hands; a flyer that Dean had put up, searching for a roommate. Castiel had seized the opportunity-it was the easiest way into Dean’s life.  
“Dude… I get that I have a nice house, but damn, it’s midnight. Don’t you have a place to sleep?” Dean was too tired to notice he hadn’t put any information about the house on the flyer and yet Castiel was still here, at his door. The angel shook his head, biting his lip and looking down at his feet.  
"Alright, don’t bring in any fleas.” Castiel didn’t understand why Dean was letting him in so easily, what if he was a murderer? Castiel nevertheless picked his duffel up and carried it in.  
_________________________

“What do you like to eat?”  
Dean had knocked on Cas’ door that following morning, in just his sweatpants and a band t-shirt, having just woken up. For a long moment, Castiel did not respond. Truth be told, he didn’t know how. He didn’t eat; it was unnecessary, seeing as he was an angel and not a human… yet he still couldn’t tell Dean he wasn’t hungry or some other excuse because at one point “I’m not hungry” wouldn’t work anymore and Dean would know something was up.  
“Uhh… Bagels…?” The angel voiced the first thing he could think of, biting his lip as he heard Dean continue down the hall with an “okay” for a reply. He sighed in relief and went back to unpacking his duffel bag, hanging a few shirts up. (Dean would never let him know but he had done a little background research on Castiel, just to make sure he wasn’t a criminal or something) Castiel dug his trenchcoat out, rolling it up and stashing it into the corner of his new closet.  
A few minutes later, Dean was knocking on Castiel’s door again, a toasted bagel with cream cheese on a plate in his hands. The angel hesitantly opened the door, forcing a pathetic smile as he took the bagel, thanking Dean. He looked down at the food in his hands, sighing. He swept a bit of extra cream cheese up with his finger, licking it off and cringing. It tasted like…. molecules. Castiel put the plate aside, turning back to his duffel bag with tired, blue eyes.  
Hiraeth.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he attacc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't want to mash the two chapters together,,,  
> ALSO im really sorry these are on the shorter side they're just to start this off
> 
>  
> 
> lol i wont be surprised when no one reads this

Castiel sighed softly, running a hand through his mussed, black hair. He wasn't supposed to feel exhaustion, yet here he lay, feeling as if the world is crumbling down on him.  
Let's say he was having a crummy day.   
He lost his coat, he had various irremediable cuts and bruises, he nearly lost his life to a nephilim that in spite of his best efforts still got away, and came home to a cranky Dean who insisted on Castiel telling him why he was hurt and why he was out for so long. Castiel knew Dean wouldn't understand, but still got frustrated when the man constantly badgered him about his injuries. The angel locked himself into his room while he tried to figure out why he couldn't heal himself, which finally got Dean to shut up for a little while. It gave Castiel time to think of what could've happened. He knew he'd have to patch his wounds and take care of his vessel for the time being so he wouldn't become ill, as much of a chore as it would be.   
\---  
A knock at his door. “C-... Cas?” The angel turned to face the closed door, sighing. “Come in,” he said, staring down at his arm as Dean opened his door hesitantly. “Hey,” he said softly, biting his lip. “How are you?” The man closed the door behind him gently, leaning back against it. “Fine,” Castiel grumbled out, poking the skin surrounding one of his smaller wounds and watching as blood beaded at the edges of the cut. “Don’t do that,” Dean chided, leaving his spot by the door to sit down on Castiel’s right and pick his arm up wordlessly. He laid it on his lap, inspecting the wound and looking back at Cas. “Didn’t you think to bandage this? I mean, look, you had the time and did the others.”  
“I didn't think it’d be as important,” he confessed, pursing his lips. “It still has the same risk of getting infected, you need to clean it and cover it,” Dean said, and Castiel couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that crept onto his cheeks. “Oh,” was his reply before Dean tapped his thigh, signalling for him to get up and follow Dean.   
What the hell happened out there? Castiel thought to himself, hissing as Dean poured something on to his cut. “Chill, buddy, it’s just hydro-... hydrogen peroxide. A little cold, but it’s fine.” Cas eyed Dean but nodded, watching as the man cared for his cut.   
“So, if you’re done PMSing, you ready to tell me what happened out there?”   
“You wouldn’t understand,” Castiel breathed out, his arm twitching as Dean started to bandage the wound for him. “Oh, I won’t?” Dean’s eyebrow was cocked as he taped the bandaging and patted Cas’ arm. “There, done.”   
“You’re mind won’t be able to grasp it and you’ll kick me out and tell me I’m crazy, or quite possibly take me to a mental hospital, so no, I won’t tell you, Dean.”   
The way Castiel’s voice darkened as he spoke Dean’s name sent a shiver up the man’s spine- and not a pleasant one. “Okay, uh… tell me if your, uh, cuts start acting up, okay?”   
Castiel gave a curt nod, standing up and pulling his coat sleeve over the bandages. 

“Thank you for knocking, by the way.”


End file.
